


a heart as loud as lightning

by tobito-dorito (jelly_tyson)



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, One Shot Collection, but some have some light angst, like ridiculously Soft, most are Soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21944374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelly_tyson/pseuds/tobito-dorito
Summary: A collection of TC stand-alone one-shots.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 47
Kudos: 512





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> All of these are entirely fictional. I've got a few written already - past, present, future, genfic (kind of?)... it's a whole mess. All fictional, most under 1,500 words, all just moments captured in time I wanted to put into writing. 
> 
> Enjoy! Or don't... to each their own.

an afternoon on the couch

* * *

Tobin’s arm has been asleep for what she guesses is about 15 minutes, but she doesn’t dare move.

It’s storming outside, wind whipping raindrops against the windows, and the tv is turned down so low she can barely hear it. Tobin’s not even sure what they’re watching – nine people in khaki aprons making bread in a tent somehow makes even less sense after she thinks about it – but she doesn’t dare turn it off.

She’s trying to remain as still as possible and it’s the best way to spend an afternoon.

She’s warm and heavy and completely immobile, and it’s at least six different kinds of wonderful.

…………

“Babe, come _on_ ,” Tobin whined.

“Tobin, I am _not_ lying on top of you. You’re so fidgety.”

“There’s no way the corner is comfortable.” Tobin glanced at the tv. “What are we even watching?”

“I’m watching. You’re fidgeting.”

Christen yawned.

“You’ll nap better lying down.”

“Poor timing.”

“Whatever.”

After the third yawn, Christen’s resolve had faded. She settled mostly on top of Tobin, her left arm resting near Tobin’s ear, knuckles brushing under the fabric of her hoodie. She draped her arm across Tobin’s stomach and tucked her head under Tobin’s chin.

She felt Tobin’s jaw move, opening her mouth on a retort, but quickly close as Tobin’s arm came to her back instead.

A few minutes later, Tobin felt Christen’s breathing slow. Tobin glances down, straining her vision to see whether the striker’s eyes are closed. She finds her lips slightly parted and her eyelids heavy with sleep. Tobin smiles gently and continues tracing small circles across Christen’s shoulder blades.

Tobin turns down the tv as the wind continues to howl. Rain has started to fall and the apartment is even darker, the perfect environment for a nap, but Tobin’s not tired at all.

She’s wide awake, taking this all in.

It’s like a scene from a movie, really.

Her girlfriend – her beautiful, brilliant, caring, incredible, warm girlfriend – is asleep on top of her on the couch they share. It’s the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday in October, and her girlfriend is tucked under her chin and heavy and _warm_.

So Tobin is still. Her left hand is the only part of her that moves. She traces the length of Christen’s ribs, draws circles at the small of her back, and plays with the soft ends of the hair that falls down her back. She wonders if she moves her right arm from where it rests behind her head she’ll be too disruptive, so she allows her dominant hand to wander.

She sighs quietly as another gust of wind rattles the windows. She tries to still her mind, tries to calm the rush of energy that swarms her heart, tries desperately to remain still. Christen’s legs alternate with hers, strong thighs holding her steady as her chest rises and falls.

It’s been years. Years. And she’s still got butterflies.

There’s nothing like this feeling.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> holiday traditions aren't always holiday-themed.

“Wait… you’re serious? A tradition on the thirteenth? Isn’t that a little early?” Tobin laughed.

“It started in college, I guess. My first finals week. It’s a me tradition, not a family one.” Christen hoped Tobin wouldn’t be able to hear her self-consciousness. “I was really stressed about some class and didn’t want to go to the dining hall, so I just picked up some mac and cheese and decided to make it in the dorm kitchen. The movie was on in the common room, so I ate my food and watched the whole thing. It was the only thing that felt like… like Christmas… that whole week. So I did it again the next winter.”

To her credit, Tobin was silent. Christmas traditions were different for everyone – it was years before she had realized that not every family hid a pickle in the tree – and Christen was sharing a part of her life with her. A part of her life she was a little embarrassed to share, judging by how she was wringing her hands.

“What movie?”

Christen felt her cheeks darken as she answered, knowing exactly what Tobin’s response would be.

Christen rolled her eyes at the laugh she had anticipated. “Chris, that’s not even a Christmas movie!”

“I didn’t say it was a holiday tradition,” Christen deadpanned without looking up from the ground. 

It was then that Tobin realized this might be the first time Christen had had to explain the tradition to anyone. It would have been easy enough to sneak away from family or friends in favor of a night alone to watch the movie, but instead Christen was here with her. Tobin felt momentarily guilty about the teasing, and instead chose to hope that this was something she could share.

“Does it have to be the thirteenth?” She asked, hoping the tradition could wait a day or two and they could still spend a Saturday night together.

“It kind of does, yeah. I’m sorry, I knew you wanted to – ”

“Chris,” Tobin said quietly, “It’s cool. We’ll stay in. But we’re definitely going to need two boxes of that stuff. I’m watching too.”

“You cannot talk through this movie.” Christen said as she settled into the corner of the couch and pulled her knees to her chest.

“Chris,”

“I’m not kidding. You cannot talk through this movie.”

Tobin chuckled quietly to herself as the movie began. She wanted to continue joking, to keep pestering Christen about how _The Sound of Music_ was absolutely not a Christmas movie, but something about how Christen had already put on her high school sweatshirt and glasses and had settled in immediately told her it was best not to fight it tonight and let Christen have her night.

It was Saturday night, one of the last ones they would spend together until after Christmas, and instead of dinner and a movie downtown, they were splitting a blue box of mac and cheese and watching an old DVD.

Tobin knew the plot, knew the title song, but had never really watched the movie before. She didn’t realize just how funny some of the lyrics were, and earned a pointed glare early on when she laughed out loud at “ _she’s always late for everything, except for every meal_.”

She spent the rest of the movie watching Christen smile at ever line she knew was coming….

_“I’m Kurt, I’m fourteen, and I’m impossible.”_

…and laugh quietly at the ones she’d forgotten since the last time she’d watched.

_“Oh yes you are, Captain! …Fraulein.”_

Tobin was enjoying the musical so far, in all its traditions, but didn’t watch much of it. She followed along with the plot and listened to the songs, but was mostly interested in watching Christen.

She watched as Christen shifted in her seat, pulling her legs closer to her chest again, as the children on the tv start to sing in the sitting room. Tobin hadn’t realized just how powerful the love story in this movie was and found herself getting swept up alongside Christen.

Goosebumps appeared along her arms against her will as she watched the main characters waltz in the courtyard and understood why this movie would make Christen forget about finals, even just for a few hours. Tobin realized quickly why this movie was a classic: the unexpected comedy, the dark commentary on the Nazi invasion of Austria, the scenery, and the love story, all coming together in a single musical.

When the movie finally finished, Christen sighed quietly and turned to face her.

“You were a good sport about that,” She joked. “I know 1960s musicals aren’t really your thing.”

Tobin turned her head and scrunched her forehead. She wondered why was Christen trying to spare her feelings by joking about a tradition that clearly meant a lot to her.

“Chris, obviously this means a lot to you,” She said, finally reaching for her. “I’m glad I got to share it with you.”

Christen’s face softened. “I hope you’ll be next to me next year, too.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” 

She just hoped that she wouldn’t have nightmares about a lonely goat herd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sound of Music (1965) is an absolutely timeless classic that everyone should watch and enjoy with or without a bowl of mac and cheese, for the record.


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was hoping you'd call"

It's late, and it’s dark, and Christen has had too much wine for her own good.

She’s not sure why she’s allowing herself to wallow in this funk she’s been feeling, but she’s gone all in and she’s allowing herself to feel a little low this evening.

Nothing had gone right this week. They’d blown a 2-0 lead in the last 20 minutes, the dogs were misbehaving, and it had been raining for three days. Today seemed to be the culmination of all the bad energy – she’d spilled coffee on herself in the morning, torn a hole in her yoga pants leaving the studio, and dropped her purse in a puddle on the way home.

So she ordered take-out, changed into sweatpants, and opened her laptop.

Becky had recommended the show, calling it a classic that everyone should see. The plot wasn’t something she’d normally watch but she found herself drawn to the love story hidden below. The tall, wide-eyed dreamer and the smart but skeptical medical doctor who were polar opposites but shared a passion for finding the truth, together.

The episode that’s playing is one of the lighter episodes she’s seen, and she’s grateful for it. A man whose emotions control the weather pines for his best friend. It’s goofy and upbeat and even ironic considering how the cold rain outside perfectly matches her mood tonight.

She doesn’t expect to be so affected by a quote from the red-headed skeptic towards the end of the episode.

_"The best relationships… the ones that last… are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship.”_

As if on cue, her phone buzzes. She swipes to reveal the picture from Tobin, the sun setting across the Portland skyline, and the caption that reads _Missing you more than usual today_

Another message comes in and Christen’s heart skips against her will.

_I’ve been seeing pieces of you everywhere_

Christen turns off the tv and ignores the overthinking voice in her head. It’s instinctive, almost. There’s no wondering, no questions – she knows what she wants to do and she doesn’t try to stop herself. Her finger is already swiping across the screen.

Tobin answers on the first ring.

“I was hoping you’d call,” Her voice is cool and quiet on the other side of the phone and Christen smiles as she lets out a low sigh.

“I miss you, too,” Christen admits. It’s been a long day and longer week and all she wants is to curl up against Tobin’s chest and bury herself in a borrowed hoodie that smells like her. She had been spoiled by the recent camp – Tobin was never far away and always sought her out.

She didn’t know how much she missed it– _her_ – until it– _she_ – was suddenly gone.

Christen had always thought of herself as fiercely independent, never in need of someone to feel whole. It carried her through college, overseas, and beyond. And yet, she wonders why everything is easier with her best friend. Why all she wants is to make dinner with her, to argue over groceries and candle scents, to listen to her talk about day, to watch the sun rise and set next to.

She decides that it’s not codependence so much as… amplification.

Two waves oscillating through time and space, out of sync and seemingly at random. But when those waves cross, when the sequences overlap and exist together, everything is amplified.

They’re strong individually, some of the strongest she knows, but they’re better together.

Tobin is quiet for a while and Christen revels in the comfortable silence. She listens to the quiet breathing and hushed noises of Tobin shifting positions on the other line.

“I don’t like being this far away from you,” Christen whispers. As though she didn’t mean to say it out loud, but she can’t keep it to herself.

Tobin sighs quietly. “Me neither,” she admits.

“Tell me about your day?” She asks.

“What?”

Christen hears the grin behind the words and wishes she could see it.

“Tell me about your day. Tell me a story. Anything. I want to hear your voice.” She lets herself be vulnerable, lets Tobin hear it in her voice. She’s in one of those downswings of her own wave, and knows that she’ll be on the positive side soon enough, but tonight she lets herself be small.

Tobin must hear it. She tells Christen about her day, never embellishing, simply recounting the day’s events. Christen sinks farther into the couch and pulls her knees closer. Finally, Tobin tells her about the pieces of her she’s been seeing all day – the pink bag in the store window, the book Christen was reading last week being advertised on the radio, the coffee special at the café, and the 23 minutes of cardio she’d accidentally done, according to her phone.

It's almost palpable, how easily the words burrow beneath her skin and behind her ribs. It's still one of those nights, but Tobin somehow knows exactly what to say to build the pieces back towards neutral, and then beyond. 

“Tobin?” The interruption is brief and unintentional, but she can't seem to hold it back. 

“Yeah, Chris?”

Christen pauses for a moment before she opens herself up completely. The words from the tv show still sink in and she’s not sure Tobin’s ready to hear the truth yet, and she’s definitely not going to risk losing her best friend because she’s had a bad day and too much wine. 

_“And the person who was just a friend is suddenly the only person you can imagine yourself with.”_

Tonight isn't the night. She's too far away - anything more than inches would be too far away for this. So she leaves it simple. She speaks the truth, and prays her inflection conveys everything she means to say.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The full quote from The X-Files is also a classic that deserves something much longer than this. 
> 
> “Well, it seems to me that the best relationships - the ones that last - are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with.”
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's been following along with this collection so far - I'm always grateful to share a part of this little world.


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobin and the Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> distracting myself from the Wedding of the Decade today by writing something way outside of my comfort zone and very AU, but also inspired by an instagram post from this morning.

“Tobin?”

The house was eerily silent when she walked in, except for the sound of the dryer running. It was louder than she remembered, and Christen figured that Tobin must’ve left the door to the mud room open accidentally.

She put the groceries away before going in search of Tobin and the Monster.

The afternoons were the worst for the Monster, who hadn’t been able to nap in weeks. It turned him into a terror, tired and hungry and loud, completely unwilling to sleep during the day. They’d tried everything: blackout curtains, endless books, the rocker, in the crib, out of the crib, warm room, cool room. Nothing seemed to work.

Hence, the Monster.

It was a loving nickname, Christen assured herself. Mostly loving. A little too honest, but always said in kind and with a lilt in her voice. He wouldn’t remember it when he got older, anyway. It was exhausting, knowing they were responsible for this tiny terror of a human who couldn’t sleep, so the nickname helped make playtime and bath time and nap time more tolerable for the adults. She and Tobin had taken to alternating who got to spend at least part of the afternoon outside of the house, just to maintain some sanity.

So when she returned to a silent apartment, she feared the worst.

The car was in the driveway (the first few times they took him for a drive, hoping the motion would calm him, had been wildly unsuccessful). The stroller and keys were left by the door, so Tobin and the Monster had to be somewhere inside.

Christen checked the couch first before moving to the Monster’s room. The lights were off and the monitor was still blinking, but the kid was not in the crib. Christen checked their bedroom next and found it empty.

The tightening of her chest wasn’t filled worry this time, only confusion.

Where would they have gone?

Christen checked the rest of the house one room at a time, starting with the places it’d be comfortable for a baby to be sleeping and large enough to fit a grown adult. She opened closets, checked behind shower curtains and under blankets. She even ventured to the backyard, briefly wondering if they’d been wrong about the sun keeping him awake all along.

Finally, Christen decided to pick up her phone. Maybe Tobin had taken the Monster somewhere else and had forgotten her keys in the process.

When she heard the phone ring from between two couch cushions, she desperately tried not to fear the worse.

Surprisingly, raising a kid had actually lessened her nerves. Nothing would ever be completely scheduled, never went according to plan, and was never done completely right. Which meant nothing could really be that wrong.

Plus, Tobin was always there, and the Monster always curled up with her during the early morning hours. Their son was a perfect mix of quiet, calm, and uncontrollably rambunctious, always curious and always exploring. He had all of Tobin’s face: bright hazel eyes and wide smile, and she couldn’t wait to see what other traits he’d inherited from his mother.

Most importantly she couldn’t wait until he had a little sibling with dark hair and copper skin to look after. In just a few short months, they’d be a party of four.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sound of the dryer going off. She sighed, and stood from the couch. If nothing else, she could at least fold the laundry until Tobin and the Monster got home from wherever they must have gone. She sat on the couch a few minutes longer, selfishly enjoying the silence of her own home.

To her surprise, the dryer started up again as she approached the closed door.

She knocked on the door briefly before entering, realizing that Tobin and the Monster must have been behind it. She expected to be met with some sort of a scene, Tobin probably doing laundry to clean up a spill or accident or something similar, the Monster harnessed across her chest with a pacifier to muffle the screaming. She expected the familiar tantrums of the boy around this time of day.

Except, there wasn’t crying. There wasn’t whining, there wasn’t singing, there wasn’t talking. There weren’t any noises to suggest that they were inside. Only the very loud sounds of the dryer.

She wasn’t sure what she expected to find, but it certainly wasn’t this.

The door only opened slightly, colliding with Tobin’s outstretched legs as she pushed it into the room. She was lying with her back against the cool tile floor, a towel rolled beneath her head as a makeshift pillow. The Monster was balanced carefully on her chest.

Christen opened her mouth to speak as her eyes met Tobin’s, but found herself unable to. She studied the scene before her. The sounds of the dryer filled the air, loud and rhythmic, as Tobin’s right hand drew careful circles across the boy’s back.

The Monster was asleep. Fast asleep. His tiny body was heavy against Tobin’s chest, a small hand wrapped tightly around a stuffed bunny. There was a tiny pool of drool darkening the fabric of Tobin’s shirt.

Christen brought her hand to her mouth to cover the shy smile emerging. She wanted to cry at how peaceful he finally looked, wanted to laugh at how ridiculous the scene was, but mostly wanted to capture the picture of Tobin and their son on the laundry room floor in the middle of the afternoon in her memory.

Christen moved to join them on the floor, giving in to the desire to be a part of whatever it was that this was. She positioned herself carefully so that her back was against the washing machine, allowing Tobin’s head to rest comfortably in her lap. She ran her fingers through the other woman’s hair and over her jaw, a thousand words transferred in simple touches.

“I think he likes the sound,” Tobin whispered. She glanced at the boy, making sure the vibrations of her words hadn’t disturbed his sleep.

Christen laughed softly. “It’s so loud. What did you put in it?”

“Tennis balls,” Tobin smiled, equal parts proud and embarrassed. She didn’t tell Christen that this was the third load of only towels and tennis balls that afternoon.

Christen sighed. The Monster was asleep and they’d finally stumbled upon a solution. “I’m buying him the _best_ white noise machine tomorrow.”

The Monster stirred against Tobin’s chest and Christen brought her fingers to the back of the boy’s head, brushing through his soft hair, before resting it on his back and looking back to Tobin, who had closed her eyes and focused on careful breathing to lull him back to sleep.

Christen reached for the other woman’s hand and kissed the palm before resting it against her chest, a silent affirmation of everything she’d said a thousand times before. Her heart beat steady and loud beneath the weight of Tobin’s palm, her breaths calm and deep. She covered Tobin’s hand with her own and smiled as she felt the familiar clinking of matching gold bands.

Eventually, Tobin disrupted the echoing of the tennis balls.

“Chris, as much as I hate to say this, we gotta wake him up soon. I can’t feel my butt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did I name the kid the Monster because I couldn’t decide on a name? Yes, yes I did.


	5. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amongst controlled chaos, we find peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw a photoset on tumblr and needed to lie down for ten minutes. Then this happened.

The party is loud. Tobin’s not sure how Kelley got so many people to fit in her two-bedroom condo, but in true O’Hara fashion, she found a way. There had to be twenty, maybe thirty of their closest friends, all comfortably crammed together on this cold November night.

It’s loud, but a good kind of loud, Tobin thinks. It’s not often they all get to get together like this, so she soaks up every minute she can and allows the energy in the room to fuel her.

She watches most of the action from afar, leaning her shoulder against a doorframe. There’s a competitive game of Jenga happening around the coffee table and a boisterous conversation about the pros and cons of drive-in movie theatres in another corner. A few others are glued to the game of _Mario Party_ on the tv.

Tobin smiles at the ridiculousness of the scene. It’s comfortable and effortless and completely unexpected for a group of friends turning or nearing thirty. It reminds her of an eighth-grade birthday party, but with significantly more alcohol.

She’s surrounded by some of her best friends, who are quickly becoming each other’s friends, laughter and conversations fueled by popcorn and red wine. There’s nothing like it in the world. She leans farther onto the doorframe and takes a sip from her glass.

Tobin smiles around the rim as she watches Kelley’s hand snake around her girlfriend’s waist. It’s effortless and smooth and practiced and Tobin can’t help but feel proud that her friend gets to experience what she has. A supporter, a confidant, and partner in crime all within arm’s reach. Not only are her friends all here, they’re all here and they’re all _happy_.

After the fourth person bumps into her in the doorway, Tobin decides to stop leaning against the frame. She moves a few inches to the left and slides down onto the floor, closing her eyes as she stretches her legs farther into the room. She feels light and loose and comfortable, closing her eyes for a second in silent thanks for everything good in her life tonight.

As if on cue, a familiar hand falls to rest on her shoulder.

“Hey, you.”

Christen’s voice is soft and warm and filled with sunshine as Tobin leans her cheek against the hand on her shoulder.

“You alright?” Christen asks gently.

Tobin looks up around the brim of her hat, craning her neck to smile and nod in response.

“All good,” Tobin nods again. “Just watching.”

Christen moves in front of her so that she no longer blocks the doorway and extends her hand. Tobin knows it’s to help her stand, but she has another idea. She meets her eyes and grins and as soon as she feels Christen’s hand in hers, and pulls gently for Christen to join her on the floor.

It’s significantly easier than she thought it would be.

Christen moves easily and settles comfortably between Tobin’s legs. She rests her back against Tobin’s chest and feels her girlfriend’s heavy exhale as her lips curl upwards. Christen curls her head into the crook of Tobin’s chin and closes her eyes as Tobin’s hands rest gently against her ribs. She’s wearing a thin, black jumpsuit with an open back that she knows Tobin loves and can feel the heat radiating off of Tobin’s chest.

She can feel Tobin’s smile widen against her temple and can feel the steady drum of her heartbeat. She closes her eyes and sinks deeper, pulling Tobin’s arm around her stomach and covering it with her own.

Christen watches as the Jenga tower topples and a chorus of swearing erupts from Lindsey and Emily. Tobin’s chest shakes with a few quiet chuckles and it sends another wave of heat through her. She’s never been more grateful for an invitation to Atlanta. Kelley had planned a combined housewarming and surprise half-birthday party for Tobin after the latest round of friendlies, inviting Tobin’s best friends to celebrate with her. 

Now she gets to experience Tobin’s full heart – surrounded by friends and loved ones, peacefully away from the spotlight, content and at ease on the floor with her. 

Christen shifts slightly and brings her hand to the side of Tobin’s face, completely covering her cheek. She cranes her neck to press a long, lingering kiss to Tobin’s jaw. She feels her smile widen under her lips and a hand curl around farther her stomach to pull her closer, and Tobin is pretty sure that this is exactly what heaven is like. 

When Tobin finally checks her phone the next morning, there's a text from Allie - a sneaky photo of her and Christen on the floor with the message _marry her already, Harry._


	6. six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tobin, are you alright?”
> 
> The short answer, of course, is no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of angst and pain, because that's where the good stuff is.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end of the line is raspy and heavy with sleep. Tobin hears a rustling of blankets and a deep sigh and it’s just enough to silence the thundering of her heart beating in her chest.

Tobin can’t breathe, can’t process it either – she’s just glad to hear the voice. _Her_ voice. Her heart rate slows just enough for her to breathe. Her mouth still tastes like metal, and she can’t speak, can’t say anything. Tobin’s breaths are shallow into the phone as she desperately tries to calm her racing mind.

“Tobin? Is that you?” Christen’s voice is firmer now, but still cracks on the final syllable.

Tobin shakes her head, tries to will herself back to wherever it is that she is, and glances at the clock for the first time since she woke gasping and sweating.

The clock across from her blinks 2:42 am.

Shit. It’s literally the middle of the night.

She hadn’t thought to check the time – the sun was so bright and the sounds of the sirens had been so loud, she’d felt the cold pavement hard beneath her knees, the warm blood covering her hands.

There had been so much blood.

“Yeah – ” she breathes. The words burn her throat and she chokes down the bile that’s risen. “Yeah, it’s me. Shit, Chris, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – ”

She hears a rustle on the other side of the line and it’s barely enough to drown out the sirens still echoing in her ears.

“Tobin, are you alright?”

The short answer, of course, is no.

Her mouth tastes like metal from the adrenaline and her t-shirt is soaked with sweat and she can still smell the fire and carnage. She pieces it together now – the fact that she woke in her bed in the middle of the night and not in the middle of the road – but she’s never had a nightmare this real.

There was so much blood... 

Tobin lies.

“Yeah,” She tries to convince herself. “Yeah. I – I just… I just needed to hear your voice.”

She feels like an idiot. An idiot who wakes her girlfriend up in the middle of the night before a big game because she had a nightmare.

Of course Christen is fine, tucked too far away in a hotel somewhere outside of Houston.

But she still can’t get the sirens out of her head. The sounds of metal crashing and glass breaking. The blood on her hands and the smell of burning.

“What happened?” Christen’s voice is stronger now, more awake. Tobin briefly registers the sound of a hotel door clicking closed as she focuses on the sounds on the other end of the line.

“I…” The lump in her throat is suffocating and her eyes well with unshed tears as she manages to breathe out the words, barely loud enough for herself to hear. She doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to ever think about it, but she can’t lie to Christen. Not even to protect herself.

“I lost you.”

Christen has never heard her sound this small.

Tobin’s not even sure what to say. So she tells the truth.

“There was an accident. I tried… I ran to you, but it was too late. The sirens, the broken glass. So much blood. It was so real. I needed – I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m here,”

She’s not sure how it happens, but with that, Tobin’s breathing slows back to normal. Her pulse is still racing and her chest is heaving, but the sweat on her forehead begins to dry.

Christen must sense it somehow. She breathes deeply into the receiver in a silent effort to calm her down and restore the balance. 

It works. A wave of exhaustion washes over her and Tobin shrugs the damp t-shirt off her head and replaces it with something clean and soft.

It takes ages, but finally, the sirens are gone from her mind as she crawls beneath the covers and whispers another truth.

“Wish you were _here_.”

“I know.”

“Thanks for… for answering.” There’s embarrassment hidden in plain sight, but Tobin’s too tired to care. “Sorry I called in the middle of the night.”

“Tobin?” Christen asks.

“Yeah, love?”

“You’ll never lose me.”

Christen keeps the line open for a few minutes after she admits the truth, listening to the rhythmic rise and fall of Tobin’s chest and the silent snores that follow.


	7. seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the somber aftermath of a cold, rainy, emotional walk along the shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set after another fic of mine, milestones, so I'd recommend reading that one first. Technically it can stand alone (if I wrote it right), I just wanted to dive a little more into C's POV. 
> 
> milestones: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20965559

The first raindrops fall a few minutes before they returned from the walk. Christen watches as Tobin sheds the damp t-shirt in favor of a loose-fitting hoodie before lumbering to the balcony to watch the storm rage over the ocean.

Christen takes in her heavy sigh, the blank expression, the gray clouds of her thoughts churning tumultuously behind her eyes.

Tobin was quiet the entire walk back. Christen had wrapped her hands around her elbow and held her close and Tobin had allowed it, but she wasn’t fully present, still mourning the memories and dreams she never allowed herself to have.

It wasn’t unusual for silence to fall between them, but this was different. Tobin was closed and withdrawn and… _sad_.

After changing into warm and dry clothes of her own, she joins Tobin on the balcony, hoping silent company would be enough to pull Tobin from wherever she was.

They watch the storm together, Christen curled in an armchair and Tobin leaning forward on the railing. Christen wanted nothing more than to hold her – to wrap her in her arms and hold her until Tobin remembered that the two of them together were stronger than any storm – but instead, she watched the lightning flash across the skyline and waited patiently for sounds of a thunderclap.

“I want to marry you.”

Christen barely hears it. It’s too quiet, too reserved, too guarded, and she’s not sure it’s meant for her.

“But I don’t know how.”

Christen watches as her shoulders hunch farther and her head shakes, trying to find the words.

“I never imagined my wedding because I never imagined someone would want to be next to me that day.” Tobin’s voice cracks as she speaks and Christen breathes slowly, letting the words sink under her skin and through her veins, filtering the love and truth she knows is present from the pain of the words.

There’s even more behind it, she knows, but there’s plenty of time to remove that hurt.

They have as long as they both shall live.

“I don’t know how to get married. I don’t even know if I want to.” Tobin cards a hand through her hair and stares straight ahead. “It feels selfish, but it’s almost like… like I don’t want to marry you. Like I just want to be married to you. That’s all I want.”

Christen listens as a strike of lightning flashes behind Tobin’s bowed head. She knows they’re headed that way, knows that Tobin’s secretly already asked her father for his blessing. Knows that Tobin wants to propose, but she has had a small velvet box of her own hidden in the laundry room for months.

“I just want to be married to you.” Tobin whispers.

Christen understands in pieces – it’s not just the spectacle of a wedding or the media, it’s deeper than that. It’s the principle. There’s more to it than just the first dance and the flower girl and the guest list and the announcement. There’s the space for family, for God, and the fact that so many will still never accept them for who they are. Christen suspects there’s even more beyond that given the somber look and silent tears from earlier in the evening.

She repeats it again, and Christen’s already wrapping herself around Tobin’s hunched frame. Her arms wrap tightly around her shoulders as she buries herself in the crook of Tobin’s neck. She hopes that the contact is enough – that she can absorb the hurt and replace it with admiration and promises of forever.

She hopes it’s enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to reiterate: this one-shot collection is just a collection of nonsense and stuff.


	8. eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The announcement we all deserve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a dream about a post-Olympics press conference and couldn't stop thinking about it.

There were cameras everywhere as they stepped into the lobby. The weeks since the Olympics had been nearly as bad as they were last July, except the jet lag was worse this time.

The ride home had been bittersweet. Everyone knew the retirements were coming, many had even through rounds of them before, but it was still difficult knowing that the team everyone recognized, the family of the team itself, was so transient.

Kelley had said it best: you rent the colors, you don’t own them.

First it was Ali and Ashlyn. That one hadn’t been a surprise. They talked about children, about a family of their own, investing in the Orlando community and starting a youth club in the next few years. A few others announced they’d be stepping away from the national team but staying with their clubs for as long as they’d have them.

Rumors swirled about politics, another off-season baby boom, returning to clubs, veterans overstaying their time on the team, and the next generation of national team goalkeepers in 2023.

Tobin was already fairly silent on social media but she’d been nearly invisible since last July. Christen and Lindsey reminded her to post every so often, but there was always too much background noise for her to do much more than post the occasional story, or like a friend’s photo. The media was incessant this time of year. They wrote about everything and nothing.

She knew they’d write about today, too.

Christen sat cross-legged atop the hotel bed in the matching Team USA sweats they’d all been asked to wear. She watched quietly as Tobin paced around the room, nervous energy radiating through her.

“How are you so calm about this?” Tobin asked, running her hands through her hair for the fifth time that morning.

Christen shrugged and checked the time. They still had twenty minutes before their time slot. “It’s just another media day.” She knew Tobin had been nervous about this particular announcement all week. They’d been talking about it for months, but scripting the answer to every possible question still did little to calm the nerves of the actual day.

It wasn’t just nerves. It was a lot to deal with. They knew that after today, the mood of the next few months would always have a twinge of melancholy in it. Everything would be just a little bit somber, despite the celebratory hashtags. Tobin had suffered through it before.

She’d watched it happen in front of her. She’d declined invitations to be in farewell videos because she couldn’t hide how she really felt. Meghan had helped her with preparing for it, too, but there was nothing they could do to prepare her for the feeling that she was letting everyone down by choosing her future.

That’s where Christen came in. Christen and her infinite vision, her empathy, her capacity to love and find the good. Christen and her ability to let Tobin cope on her own when she needed, and to be beside her when she needed it. Christen was the glue that held her together more than she ever knew.

Christen, who sat cross-legged on the hotel bed, smiling softly at her as she continued to pace around the room. Tobin came to a stop and sat at the foot of the bed. She felt Christen shift and took a deep breath as she felt the hand rubbing circles across her shoulder blades.

“It’s just another press conference. It’ll be over quickly.” Tobin felt the warm words against the base of her neck. “We’re prepared.”

“Yeah, but after this,” Tobin sighed. “Everything changes.”

Christen wrapped her arms around her shoulders, easing away the tension as best she could. “It will. And that’s okay. It’s just the end of a chapter,” She pressed a kiss to her temple. “and the beginning of another.”

A knock on the door silenced Tobin’s response.

“Ready?” Christen asked.

“Let’s go.”

………

Tobin had never seen so many flash bulbs go off at once. She was glad she’d memorized the script they’d written because she was pretty sure she had gone temporarily blind. Christen’s words were calm and practiced, spoken softly and with exactly the emotions that were needed.

A bit somber and quiet, but spoken with all the thanks they both could muster.

“I’ve met the most amazing friends on this team, and I’m exceptionally grateful to have spent this much time in this uniform.”

Vlatko had leaked some information about what the players wanted to say – hinting at more celebratory send-off games and citing “family reasons” for a lot of the reasoning behind the departures.

Tobin was lost in the frenzy of it all. Christen’s voice was calm and low in her ear, but there were flash bulbs everywhere and the clamor of reporters trying to capture every bit of their joint announcement. She felt a nudge on her bicep and turned to see Christen smiling at her, silently handing over the remainder of the statement to her.

Tobin felt the heat of the lights, the echoes of the camera shutters amidst the expectant silence of the room. She knew the world was watching them, but she couldn’t help but take a moment to find her home, hidden just behind the gray-green eyes before her. She adjusted herself in the chair, cleared her throat, and stood tall as she finished the statement.

“We are both fortunate to have been a part of history, and will continue to create change for women’s football at every level.” Tobin felt a hand on her knee under the table and smiled, knowing the words that were coming.

They’d given their phones to Megan earlier that day, with strict instructions to post the photos at 11:00 sharp. It was 11:07 now. The people in this room didn’t realize they were already behind the time.

“Today, we are announcing our retirement from the national team.” She looked over at Christen, who was already unable to contain her smile. Tobin grasped the hand that rested on her knee and brought them to the top of the table, in full view of the cameras.

“My wife and I are looking forward to playing with our clubs, and to the next chapters in our lives. Thank you.”


	9. nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an AU in which tc are strangers in a bar

“Come on, Tobin, it’ll be fun. You don’t have to stay long, I promise.”

Tobin’s not sure she feels grateful or annoyed that Ali is already reassuring her before they even get to the bar. She loves her friends, loves being with them whenever she can, but she’s so obviously been the seventh wheel for months and it’s starting to wear her down. It wasn’t that she didn’t have someone, it was that the conversations always ended up circling back to the use of the shared _we_ , and Tobin can’t help but feel left out of something meant for two.

_We_ started running at the park up the street. _We_ are thinking of getting a dog. _We_ love the restaurant downtown…

It’s a lot for her during these cold, dark, winter months.

But she rallies through dinner and drinks with her friends, sitting on the edge of the table away from most of the action. Megan orders another round for the table, Dom wraps an arm around Sydney, Ashlyn steals sips from Ali’s too-sweet cocktail, and Tobin smiles quietly on the outskirts.

She’s half-listening to the overlapping conversations as she watches the other patrons. She watches a young couple settle their bill, a group of coworkers argue about basketball, and a woman return to her table with a tray of shot glasses.

Her eyes scan the other table of women, intrigued by the sash one is wearing that appears to say “Bride to Be”, and the uproar following the shots. She’s caught up in the commotion until she sees _her_.

Tobin has never been so immediately captivated.

The mystery woman is leaning on the edge of the tall table, long legs accentuated by tall black heeled boots. She’s got smooth, dark caramel skin and long black hair that falls gently over her shoulders. Careful, slender fingers push her hair behind one ear the woman’s giant hoop earrings reflect the dim lights of the bar.

The stranger’s eyes crinkle when she smiles at her friends. There’s something alluring about her eyes, the smoky haze around them, and the way she twirls the straw in her drink while she looks up.

She’s the most beautiful woman Tobin has ever seen in real life.

Tobin’s eyes catch hers momentarily and she feels her cheeks burn – she hasn’t been caught staring at a girl without meaning to be caught since she was a teenager. Every so often she stares deliberately to get attention, to have girls come to her, but Tobin feels utterly powerless to this stranger. Like she’s under a spell.

She glances down and gulps down some water, hoping it will calm the fire burning under her skin. When she finally looks up again, the woman is back in the conversation at her table, seemingly unaffected.

But Tobin still can’t stop staring.

For once, she’s grateful her friends are all more interested in each other than they are in her. Because she’s never been so interested in the stranger across the bar.

She debates the chances of it all – how often she might have seen the other woman around town, whether she even lives here, what she does for a living. What kind of coffee she drinks, and how her smile looks up close.

She tries to shake it, too. She re-enters the conversations at her table and tries not to stare. _It’s not polite_ , her mother’s voice tells her; _it’s objectifying_ , reiterates her professor; _it’s never going to happen_ , she tells herself.

But Tobin can’t look away for more than a few seconds. The stranger catches her again, a soft smile hidden by her risen glass, and Tobin glances too quickly towards the ceiling. Her ears burn from the embarrassment of not only being caught but hiding it so poorly. She runs a hand through her hair, down her face, and finally resigns that she’s just feeling especially lonely tonight.

Until she catches the other woman looking back at her, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

The stranger holds her gaze, tucks her hair back behind her ear, and smiles at Tobin, who can do nothing except smile and wave feebly in acknowledgement. Her eyes narrow in curiosity and Tobin can’t imagine why the beautiful woman is still looking at her.

The woman mumbles something to her table, her eyes never leaving Tobin, and starts towards the bar.

Tobin is certain she’s under a spell because before she knows it, she’s finishing the last of her drink and slipping away from her table, blindly following the woman to the edge of the bar.

When she arrives, her mouth goes dry and her heart pounds in her ears. She’s never been so nervous, so out of her element, so completely captivated.

It doesn’t help that the stranger is even more beautiful up close.

The woman’s hair sways as she turns her head and Tobin prays for an ounce of charisma as she leans her elbow against the sticky bar.

“See something you like?” The stranger asks. Her voice is husky but light, teasing and charming and unimaginably attractive. There’s a glint of mischief in her eyes and Tobin is relieved that the woman isn’t offended by her blatant staring.

Tobin nods as the woman’s eyes seem to trace the lines of her face.

“Anything in particular?”

_Everything_ , Tobin wants to say, but instead she stumbles her way through the simplest truth she can find, hoping it sounds more confident than she feels. “I think it’s the earrings.”

The stranger smirks. “Oh?” She asks.

“Yeah. They draw attention to your face. Your eyes.” Tobin’s ears heat up and she knows it’s too much – way too much. She can’t say for sure in the dim lighting of the bar, but she’s almost certain that the stranger’s cheeks flush as she turns away.

“Are you here with your friends?” Tobin breaks the silence and tries to find neutral ground.

“My sister’s bachelorette party, actually,” The stranger replies with an eye roll towards her table. “They’re a lot to handle. This is our third bar. You?”

Tobin glances back to her table, to the yet unnoticed empty chair. “My friend and her husband are visiting this weekend.”

When she turns back to the bar, she finds the stranger’s eyes on her lips, and Tobin’s ears go hot. The tension in the moment is almost palpable, and the woman quietly rummages through her purse before pulling out a pen. She scrawls a few digits on the cocktail napkin, biting her lip before capping the pen again and folding the napkin.

“I should get back to my sister,” she whispers without looking up. Tobin’s heart sinks against her will, until the woman hands her the folded napkin. “But I’ll be at _Cooper’s_ in twenty.”

She watches the other woman’s knowing grin as she turns away and lets out a deep exhale once she’s out of earshot. She unfolds the paper to find a phone number and finally, a name for the enchanting goddess from across the bar.

_Christen_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've actually got a (very short) part two of this planned (read: what happens at Cooper's) and will probably post it soon, if we're feeling frisky.


	10. ten (nine, part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> our heroes continue their evening at Cooper's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a continuation of chapter nine: the strangers-in-a-bar AU.

Christen nurses a club soda with lime, knowing that if she has any more alcohol she might lose any control of the situation altogether. The attention from the stranger was intoxicating enough – how her eyes had followed her every move, how she’d caught her blatantly staring too many times to count, how the tips of her ears went bright red when Christen handed her a silent invitation to _follow me_.

She never does this – never picks up the attractive woman across the bar and invites her for another drink when it’s already past eleven – but there was something about how good it felt to have someone’s eyes follow her every move. There was something about the stranger that wasn’t threatening, either. Something about her was cool and collected and kind, despite how shy and flustered she appeared. Maybe it was the gold cross around her neck, or the fact that she chose to compliment her eyes and not something else, but it had put Christen in an unfamiliar state of something only described as anticipation.

Besides, there was no way a woman who looked like _that_ wasn’t inexperienced with flirting.

Christen had noticed the long legs and wavy curls of the other woman the minute she’d walked in with her friends. She was a confidant in the bar that evening – sitting alone at the edge of a table and dragged there unwillingly by loved ones, perhaps – the beautiful shadows of her face only accentuated in the low light.

Christen glances nervously at her watch and wonders if she’s been too forward and too bold, but her thoughts are interrupted by the presence of a bright orange beanie on the counter next to her and a low “Gin and tonic, please,” beside her.

Her skin runs hot as soon as the words are spoken. The stranger is next to her again, suddenly, this time more confident than before, shifting seamlessly onto the stool after removing her coat. Christen is momentarily caught up in the redness of the other woman’s nose, windblown and cold, and the dimples in her cheeks.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” She says as she turns back to her own drink.

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” The stranger replies with a smirk, and Christen doesn’t miss the raised confidence in her voice. It’s not arrogance yet, not by a long shot, but the enchantment has worn off and now they’re seemingly on more level footing. Christen isn’t sure if she misses the rush from the control or if she’s grateful that the pressure to charm is suddenly off.

When the stranger introduces herself, she’s certain the tables have turned.

“Tobin,” Christen repeats. “Interesting name.” … _but somehow fitting_ goes unsaid.

Tobin laughs quietly and Christen wonders if she’s used to that response. “It’s a family name,” she says.

It’s not until they get to talking that Christen realizes her intuition about the attractive and nervous woman was correct. Tobin is charming, carefree, and artistic, and there’s something about the way she draws out her syllables that Christen finds annoyingly attractive. Her jaw flexes when she swallows and her eyes crinkle when she smiles and Christen finds herself even more drawn in.

“Why photography?” She asks after a long silence.

“It’s the only way to really live in the moment, I guess,” Tobin replies. “It’s all so temporary. A photo captures a moment. A single moment in time. Portraits are fine, you know, but I love the candid shot. The one when you think no one is looking… that’s the one,” Tobin pulls a photo from her wallet, wrinkled and water-logged, and explains the shoot that started it all, and the photo she carries of a reminder. “...for a split second I get to share in whatever that moment is, but then I get to transform it into a memory for someone. It’s powerful.”

Christen knows the look on her face has given too much of how she’s feeling away when the corners of Tobin’s ears go red again.

“Wow,” she finally whispers.

“What?”

“That’s just… a really good answer.” Her cheeks are warm and she’s surprised by her own honesty, but Tobin’s already shrugging it off and toying with the frayed fabric of her jeans.

The conversation continues and minutes turn to hours – voices fading to whispers as the space between them shrinks. They talk about work and family and friends and sports, but for the first time in a long time the honesty in the conversation comes easily. Christen is almost frightened by how easy it is to be truthful with the woman who only hours ago was a stranger in a bar. She tells stories about growing up, about her love affair with French fries, about her dream house, about how she fears being ordinary and forgotten. Secrets she barely tells herself pass through the space in the quiet bar.

Tobin’s knee is settled against hers and her fingers brush over the cuff of her sweater when the bartender interrupts with the bill.

“Folks, we’re closing in twenty minutes,”

Tobin’s eyes go wide and she laughs quietly when she checks the time – it’s well past two already – and Christen feels drunk at the sound. Her voice is sleepy and hoarse and the prospect of hearing that again settles low in her stomach. She reaches for her purse when Tobin’s hand on her wrist stops her.

“I’ve got this one, you can get the next one.”

Tobin winks before Christen has a chance to reply and for the second time that night Christen is speechless. The nervous, flustered stranger from hours ago is a distant memory and has been replaced by a charming and confident photographer and Christen fights the urge to give in completely.

“Okay,” she says with a smile. It’s enough to get Tobin to look at her again, a glint of surprise and excitement behind dark honey eyes, and that alone is worth it.

The cold air stings her face but Christen is still warm from the alcohol and Tobin’s elbow gently brushing against hers. The contact is respectful but just enough to be distracting and Christen finds herself leaning into it as the car pulls up.

Christen’s stomach sinks and she’s not ready for this night to end, but she knows that continuing the evening will definitely ruin the intoxicating give-and-take they’ve spent the evening developing. Tobin shrugs and shuffles beside her and Christen softens immediately when she realizes Tobin feels it too.

“I guess I’ll see you soon then,” Tobin says.

Christen turns to face her and smiles softly before pressing a lingering kiss to Tobin’s cheek. The edges of Tobin’s lips curl upwards as Christen smears the lipstick away and Christen fights a smile herself.

“Goodnight, Tobin.”

“Goodnight, Chris.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is one that sounded a lot better in my head, but hopefully the words bring it to life.
> 
> thank you, thank you as always for all the kind words and for following along with my ramblings about love and life.


	11. eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> makin’ banana pancakes, pretend like it’s the weekend now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short, unapologetic fluff to get us through this week that won't seem to end.

Tobin woke to the sound of metal crashing followed by a muffled “ _shoot_ ”. She rolled over onto her back and stretched, opening her eyes to find that Christen had left the windows open to let the sun shine in.

Tobin had long-ago figured out that this trick was a not-so-subtle way of her reminding her not to sleep the day away. She thought she’d find it annoying – she was so used to her own morning routine that often started early in the afternoon – but instead found it, well, endearing.

Christen wanted her to wake up so she could spend more time with her.

They didn’t get to spend much time together, and when they did, they made the most of it.

Tobin glanced at her phone, ignoring the texts from Ashlyn, and found the time. _Too early_ , she thought, just as another “ _shoot!”_ came from the other room.

She slipped on a tank top and mesh shorts and headed for the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she emerged from the bathroom, the air smelled like vanilla and coffee.

Tobin closed her eyes and lingered in the doorway of the bedroom as she took in the scene. Christen’s hips swayed gently to the low sounds coming from the speakers, one hand around the coffee mug and the other holding a spatula. Her hair was bundled in a messy bun and her exposed shoulders glowed in the warm light of the kitchen. _Her_ kitchen.

“Something smells good,” Tobin said as she padded into the kitchen. Her arms wrapped low around Christen’s stomach as she pressed as kiss to the base of her neck, smiling when she felt the goosebumps prick up against her lips.

Christen hummed as Tobin held her tighter. Her breath was cool and minty against her shoulder and Christen shivered again.

“Pancakes,” She said quietly.

Tobin grinned against Christen’s neck before resting her chin on her shoulder. She watched as Christen flipped the pancake to reveal a perfect golden brown, as though there could be any other result.

“What’s the occasion?” Tobin asked as she filled a mug with coffee.

Christen smiled shyly and removed the pancake from the pan. “Nothing,” She said as she made her way to stand in front of Tobin. Christen wrapped her arms around Tobin’s neck, letting her forearms rest on her shoulders and toying with the small hairs at the base of her neck. “Just wanted to make pancakes with you.” She said quietly before pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

Tobin smiled and rested her hands on Christen’s hips before leaning in for a real kiss, but Christen was already pulling away with a laugh.

“I said with you, not _for_ you,” She teased. “Grab a spoon, Heath.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been... rough, friends. i hope you're all taking care of yourselves. that said, i'm not feeling inspired by too much these days. some updates are still in progress, but feel free to send any short and sweet prompts or good vibes to be on tumblr @jelly-tyson.


	12. twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You look good like that. With a baby in your arms."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woke up thinking about this and had to put it onto paper.

Tobin crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway as she took in the scene in front of her. Christen had her back turned to her but Tobin could see the small pink blanket falling off her elbow, the towel draped haphazardly across her shoulder, and the positioning of her arms. She was bouncing gently and swaying to an imaginary melody and Tobin couldn’t get enough of it.

Alex was shouting something from the far room but Tobin wasn’t listening.

“Don’t worry, Mama, we’ll be fine,” Christen said. “You two deserve a few hours to yourselves.”

Alex stopped pacing and took a deep breath. Being on the west coast had some perks – their schedule was most flexible and conducive to quick weeknight trips. Kelley and Allie had already met the little bundle of joy, and finally it was their turn to meet her.

Alex stared past her towards Tobin, who was still leaning against the doorway and very clearly not listening. She rolled her eyes with a smile and shoved her sunglasses into her purse.

“Chris, I swear, you are a lifesaver. This one is hopeless with instructions,” She gestured towards Tobin before heading for the door. “We’ll be back before 6!”

When Christen finally turned to face her, Tobin couldn’t fight the smile.

The baby lay securely in the crook of Christen’s elbow, her tiny hand wrapped around one of Christen’s fingers. Christen was murmuring to the baby as she continued to bounce, no doubt trying to prevent another wailing cry.

Christen narrowed her eyes at Tobin, trying to interpret the grin on her face. “What?” She asked.

Tobin shifted against the door. “You look good like that,” she said quietly. “With a baby in your arms.”

Christen looked back down to the squirming newborn. It had been a while since she’d held a child this small but they’d been thinking about it a lot recently. The postponement of the Olympics may have been a stroke of luck for Alex, but it certainly set their timeline back a few more months.

Tobin softened further into the doorway as she took in Christen’s incredibly false frown, the one reserved for moments where certain emotions were too much to process all at once. Exactly the look she was striving to achieve.

She was feeling it too.

It was only a matter of time. They’d just have to be patient.

What were a few more months when you’ve already waited years?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope every last one of you are still staying safe and healthy and as always, thanks for reading!


	13. thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobin hopes that honesty is the best policy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is way the hell AU and more of a shitpost than anything, but i'm clearing out my drafts and that includes this mess, so here goes.

The plane is cold and Tobin’s headphones run out of battery with four hours still left in the flight. She’s already memorized what she’s going to say – a surprise even to her – but she knows preparation is probably what she’s supposed to do in this situation.

Not that there’s a manual.

Not even close.

She tries to sleep, tries not to imagine the outcomes of the conversation to come. Good, bad, or otherwise, she’s hoping her talent for taking it easy gets her through to the other side without too much collateral damage.

She double-checks the return flight reservation and closes her eyes.

It’s raining in Paris when she arrives, but Tobin is ready for it. Grateful for it, even. She pulls her hood over her headphones and gives the driver the address in broken French.

“C'est fermé, non? For practice?” The driver asks.

“Oui.” Tobin responds politely, hoping the driver assumes she’s only a tourist. She stares silently out the window as she takes in the familiar streets, the sights and sounds of the city she once called home.

She tips the driver as they arrive to the park and grabs her backpack from the car. She waits outside the player tunnel for what feels like hours, hoping that she’s still able to do what she came here to do.

“Tobin?” The familiar voice hits her ears, too happy and too excited. The corners of her mouth turn upwards in a lie. “What are you doing here?”

Tobin greets her with a hug, owing it to her teammates to not make a scene. She just wants it to be over, her return ticket for tomorrow morning already burning a hole in her back pocket, but she pretends.

She’s gotten pretty good at pretending.

“Hey. Let’s go somewhere, okay?”

Tobin hates every minute of it. She hates causing people pain. She hates the look on her face when she speaks the truth and tells her that she’s not in love anymore.

Her eyes are turned downward but Tobin is looking forward, open and ready to hear her yell or plead or cry or shout, but the other woman is silent.

“Is there someone else?” She finally asks.

Tobin shakes her head, admittedly surprised at the question. She takes a deep breath, and answers truthfully. “I don’t know.”

The other woman huffs a stifled, too polite laugh. “You don’t know?” She asks.

“I never… I was never unfaithful,” Tobin says quietly. “I would never do that.”

“But you want to be with someone else.”

“I don’t know.” She sighs, running her fingers through her hair. Silence falls between them and Tobin wishes she could fill it with something more lyrical than only the truth.

“Why? I mean, why did you come all the way here?”

“I owed it to you. I didn’t want to do this over the phone.” Tobin is honest. “I needed you to see how sorry I am for this.”

They talk for a few minutes, the meal long forgotten. Tobin apologizes again and again, intent on making it agonizingly clear that she never wanted anyone to get hurt – she just can’t continue being dishonest.

In the end, it’s more amicable than she thought – they’re both mature enough to know that it’s been tough for a few months now.

“I’m not in love with you,” Tobin explains quietly. “It’s just not fair to you.”

“To you, either.”

“I guess.”

Eventually, the silence is deafening. Tobin welcomes the shift in conversation back to football, to the weekends’ matches in the European league and Messi’s nutmeg goal from three weeks ago. It’s uncomfortable, talking as friends, but it’s hardly the worst outcome of this conversation.

They part ways outside the restaurant with a painfully awkward hug.

“Are we okay?” Tobin finds herself needing the reassurance just before they close the chapter for good. Her nod is soft and sad and Tobin reads the hurt underneath as she gets in the back of the taxi.

“Take care of yourself, Tobin.”

The North Carolina air is cool on her face as she gets out of the taxi. She’d texted as soon as she’d gotten off the plane, ensuring that the familiar house would be occupied when she showed up unannounced.

There’s only one person who will actually tell her if she’s being an idiot. Like, really actually tell her. Cheney would be warm and reassuring, her mother wouldn’t understand, and there’s no way she’s going to Megan for advice about this sort of thing. It’s uncharted territory and Tobin’s acting purely on gut instinct, attempting to mitigate disaster and protect everyone involved, hoping that her sincerity and honesty is enough to account for the fact that she’s hurt someone else.

She hopes that’s enough.

She walks around the block three times before finally venturing to the familiar doorstep and knocking.

“Hey, HAO.” She says with a quiet smile as Heather opens the door.

“Tobin!” Heather sweeps her into a tight hug that knocks Tobin off balance even though she knew it was coming. “Oh my god – what are you doing here?”

“It’s just for the day,” Tobin lies. She hasn’t booked a flight yet because she’s not sure where she’s headed next. She’s hoping there’s still a room reserved for her in the player hotel in Chapel Hill, just like there always was the months after she’d graduated. “HAO, I need you to tell me if I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.”

Heather tries to cover the shift from excitement to concern, but Tobin reads it on her face.

“Do you want to come in? We’re just about to watch the game,”

“Do you think we could walk instead?” Tobin’s still restless from the flight and she’s not sure she wants Heather to sit across from her and see every expression of guilt play out across her face. She breathes a sigh of relief when Heather grabs her coat.

They walk for a few blocks in silence, the bright sun warming the chill of the breeze. Tobin’s hands are fisted tightly in her pockets as she stares at the ground.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Heather’s question is stern and straightforward, but not without the sympathy Tobin wishes wasn’t there. “I have to say, you’re scaring me a little bit. Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah,” Tobin says quickly. “No one is hurt.”

“Is this about the team? Or your parents?”

“No, no. No, it’s not.” She takes a deep breath and tries to steady herself before continuing. Honesty has been the way forward up until now, so she decides to keep going with that. “I’m going to tell you some things and I need you to tell me if I’ve been an idiot. Can you… can you do that?”

She glances over and sees Heather’s tentative nod.

She hasn’t asked for serious advice in years, but Heather must know that it’s something beyond just the standard team drama and questions swirling about the future. From the minute she arrived at Chapel Hill, she knew that Heather would be the kind of person to listen and then tell you exactly what she thought. Tobin was grateful for the impact she had on her in college, and then years later on the national team.

“I just got back from Paris,” Tobin starts. “I broke it off. It – it wasn’t fair.” She continues through the broken story, sparing a few details about the last few months but otherwise retelling the conversations from the restaurant just hours ago. She tells Heather about the comments about the other woman and hopes Heather’s observant enough to know whose name goes unspoken.

After she gets the story out she lets a few tears fall – the exhaustion from the travel combining with emotional unloading finally beating her resolve.

“Tobin, _is_ there someone else?” Heather asks.

“I didn’t lie to her,” Tobin says quietly as she stares at the pavement.

“Do you want there to be someone else?”

Tobin wipes a few tears away with her palm and nods.

Heather gently places her hand on Tobin’s shoulder before responding. “I think it’s a good thing you were honest. And as stupid as it was to fly to Paris for like, six hours, it was honorable to do it in person. I know you did love her, at one point,” Heather continues. She explains that Tobin putting herself first isn’t dishonest or shameful, and that it genuinely sounds like there are no hard feelings after it all.

“What do I do?” Tobin pleads, allowing the tears to flow more freely.

“Does Christen know how you feel about her?”

Tobin shoots Heather a shocked look. “How did – ”

She’s met with a gentle smile and quiet laugh. “Tobin, buddy, I’ve seen how you look at her.”

Tobin feels the guilt return. She didn’t mean for any of this to happen – just because there’s nothing physical doesn’t mean she wasn’t dishonest in her feelings. She’s not a cheater. She’s not. She would never –

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. But, it’s why you ended things, isn’t it?” Heather is quick to reassure her as best she can. “You owe it to yourself to be happy, Tobin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all are still safe and healthy and that it's not raining and cold like it is here. thanks as always for reading.


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